Thanks to my amazing reviewers and welcome new friends! As I'm on the train all day tomorrow, I decided to update a little early rather than a little late. Chapter 9 already! Enjoy.
Tom kept his promise concerning Christmas. In fact, over the next months, he kept every single promise he gave me – though he never gave them without a fight. Stay tonight. Stay over the weekend. Attend this or that meeting. I always had to pay. I did not mind, though, not much. He let me stay where I was, after all, with which I was more than content.
It appeared that the Malfoy boy had no luck, though. Whenever I met Narcissa, she appeared to be even paler and even more worried.
That was, until an evening in mid-June, when I decided to stop by to check on the situation. Narcissa looked much better, smiling brightly at me.
"You're in a good mood," I said, surprised.
"Indeed. We've gotten the best of news! Draco repaired the Vanishing Cabinet!"
My smile froze. "Did he?"
"Yes. Now all that's left to do."
"Is to kill Albus Dumbledore. You're right. The hardest part is done."
Her smile turned rather cold as well. "Why are you so negative?"
"I'm not negative, I'm realistic. Draco's not out of danger."
She sighed, looking tiredly at the floor. "Severus has promised me-"
"And will he act against the Dark Lord's wishes?" I challenged. "I think not."
Apart from the fact that I did think that. I did not trust Severus Snape. I had seen him that night, had seen the sorrow, the devastation and the hatred for the man that had caused it all. No one could forget that.
"He will do what's best for Draco," Narcissa insisted. "He promised."
Severus Snape bowed deeply before his master, greasy hair shielding his face from view.
"You have not followed my orders," Tom stated coldly.
"Milord, there was no other way. The boy could not have done it."
I saw the sneer on Yaxley's face, but the man did not object. Draco Malfoy, meanwhile, was cowering in the far corner, pale and thin as if he had been ill for a very long time. In a way, I thought, he had been.
"Is that so?" Tom breathed, turning to the boy.
I watched Draco shuddering as Tom advanced on him.
"I think, I ordered you to kill Albus Dumbledore, Draco... have you failed me?"
"Milord, I-"
"Do you deny that you failed me?"
"I – no," he whispered.
Tom's eyes narrowed dangerously and I reached out to grab his wand-arm. "Don't," I told him.
"He failed. He will face punishment."
"He's been punished enough," I said forcefully.
He glared at me but I held my ground. I would not let him kill the boy, not now, not ever.
"I ask you for mercy," I said. "Because today is a day of victory. And we should celebrate, not punish."
I gave him an out and the two of us both knew it. Having announced his punishment, he could not back down without a proper excuse. But this, this excuse, was good enough in my opinion.
Albus Dumbledore was dead. Killed on the highest tower of his own school, by one of his most trusted teachers. Snape had done as he had promised and stepped in for Draco.
I didn't feel much like celebrating Dumbledore's death. But if it saved the boy, I would smile and pretend and be the happiest, most submissive version of myself.
Tom's eyes wandered from me to the boy and he nodded almost unperceivably.
"You are right," he said. "Tonight we shan't dwell on unpleasantries. We shall celebrate."
I watched as Draco took in a shuddering breath of relief. "Thank you, Milord," he whispered.
"You are lucky Lorraine has a soft spot for children," Tom added coldly.
Draco flushed while the other Death Eaters erupted in cruel laughter. Tom turned his back on the boy, our eyes meeting for the briefest of seconds before he moved to join his Death Eaters, who had suddenly produced several bottles and glasses.
I offered my hand to Draco as to help him up, but he merely glared.
"Leave me alone."
"Don't be stupid, Draco. In this war, we have to take every ally we can get."
His lip curled and he got to his feet. "I don't need your help; I don't need your advice. I just want you to get off my case and leave me alone."
He turned around and briskly walked out of the room.
"How do I look?" I inquired.
"Too much like yourself."
I rolled my eyes at Tom who was watching me sceptically. "I look nothing like myself."
There was only one way that I could get away with what I planned – if I made myself unrecognizable. It would not do if people kept recognizing me from the paper, or worse, from real life. Especially today was not a good day for this.
"Won't you trust me on this? I see you every day," Tom grumbled
"You're a man who has neither hair nor a nose," I said. "It gives me a pause."
"I don't know why you're doing this, anyway," he said, irritated.
"I am paying my respects to one of the greatest wizards of our time," I told him, at least as annoyed. I played for him all day when his minions were around, I pretended to be happy, to be proud of our success. At least between the two of us, I wanted to drop the act. Just the way it had always been.
He huffed, even angrier. "He let you rot in prison for over a decade."
"He's dead, Tom," I said. "We mustn't hold grudges anymore. Let bygones be bygones."
"There are no bygones so far as Dumbledore is concerned," he growled. "You celebrated his death, how can you grieve it now?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I never celebrated."
I turned to the mirror once more and smoothed over my black dress before checking on the time. It was time to return to Hogwarts and pay my respects to its greatest headmaster.
They had set up hundreds of chairs by the lake; row by row was filled with funeral guests. Many seemed to be actually sad. The first row, though, was filled by a delegation of the Ministry of Magic. If their grieving was real, my name was Morgan le Fay.
I sat down in the far back, close to the lake's shore. I only listen half-heartedly to the reception, too preoccupied with my own thoughts.
On the one hand, I really was happy.
I had never forgiven Dumbledore for not helping me back then. He had been a great threat to Tom and had forced us to face problem after problem.
On the other hand, Albus Dumbledore was dead, this kind man, this wise man, this brilliant man; my favourite teacher of ancient times.
"Excuse me," a voice suddenly mumbled and a boy pushed past me through the row.
I sat, stunned into silence by the sudden appearance. There was no way I could mistake the messy black hair and the round glasses; Harry Potter had just stumbled into me. I stared up at him, my hand closing around my wand inside my robes. One move, two words and this could all be over-
"Sorry, Ma'am," he said, apologizing again. "Did you know him well?"
"What?" I breathed. "Why?"
"You're crying," he said and my first thought was that it was a little hypocritical seeing as his eyes were not exactly dry, either. Then, of course, his words sank in, and I quickly attempted to brush the tears away with the back of my hand.
"Feels like I did," I said. "But I doubt I really knew him."
The boy nodded as though he knew exactly what I meant. "I... I feel the same way."
"Dear boy, he was only your teacher," I said.
"And how did you know him?"
"He...," I interrupted myself and allowed myself a small smile. "He used to be my teacher."
The boy gave a dry laugh which would have probably come out as joyous had the mood not been so grave.
"Well," he muttered. "Have a- never mind."
He continued his path until I decided to call after him. "Hey – you're Harry Potter, aren't you?"
He froze and pulled a face. "Yeah. Why?"
"Good luck," I said.
He walked off and I looked after him, still incredulous. Harry Potter had just stood before me, had talked to me and I had – done nothing. I had let him go. Tom would kill me.
There you go! I don't know if I'll manage to write a little Christmas one-shot - so many things to do, so little time. Just in case, I wish you all merry Christmas, may God bless you and enjoy the holidays!